


Das Gift, das Wolfs Fluch bringen wird

by BlueBonedBelldame



Category: Call of Duty (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Angst, Leaning toward making a ship, Mild Gore, My attempt to represent these characters based on how they act, Paranoia, Sarcastic Richtofen because we love that here, but later in the story maybe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-17 17:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29596542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueBonedBelldame/pseuds/BlueBonedBelldame
Summary: There were many things the German had to hide from them, something he did sun up to sun down, fighting against the raging turmoil in his head and chest for their own safety. It became easier after a while, sliding off his tongue before he could comprehend it was a lie, but keeping himself a secret was an entirely other matter on its own.The strength of the moon had begun to take a toll as he struggled to hide his secrets, and in the end, the cat’s curiosity would determine the fate of them all.
Comments: 14
Kudos: 11





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> My first published work, something ive been picking at for about half a year
> 
> Started as something small but i was encouraged by a beautiful and lovely little bluebird to keep going and so, with my had taken down and my spurs clicking against one another, i present to you a werewolf fanfiction
> 
> because this fandom surprisingly hasnt got one, which is crazy to me
> 
> I may develop this into a ship story, but im just making it up as I go so were all on this train ride together i spose
> 
> feel free to leave comments!! any feedback at all helps, id love to see how you want this story to go, or if i made you laugh 
> 
> enjoy!

Takeo often found himself tending to his blade.

He would sit for hours into the darkness of night, using the bright reflected light of the moon to see his hands working slowly, carefully on the razor-sharp metal. He used this time to contemplate, to think, and reflect, much like the moon, on what was given to him in these trying times. The full moon was his favorite among all the phases for more than one reason, for it provided both the most light and the most silence. In these bright nights, the Doctor was never there to be seen or heard. Not that he normally spoke much when he was around, opting out of gatherings and friendly banter in favor of keeping to himself, alone, distant, and cold.

But his lack of noise would always be made up by the others.

Nikolai, with his accusing words and hateful stares, wasn't shy in voicing his displeasure of the German. He hated the man, hated what he represented, and hated that he couldn't get rid of him like he so desired. He would find anything he could to start up an argument with him, from his lack of a steady hand to the fray of his collar he would try to gauge a reaction from the closed-off man, but Edward had long since learned the lesson of ignoring the things he cared not for. 

If it wasn't Nikolai, however, it would be Dempsey. He wasn't as corrosive and threatening as Nikolai- not to say he didn't have his fair share of death threats, but he did have something to say when the German was around, whether it be how they still had no idea what the hell they were supposed to be doing here, or how he had to save the Doctor for being inattentive or too lost in his head to recognize the clawing of his flesh was not his own doing, which was sadly an often enough occurrence for it to be mistaken as such. Dempsey was always able to put him in an uncomfortable spot, a place where he couldn't weasel out a half-lie or a dismissive tone.

Instead, he either caved in and spilled a very carefully constructed sentence that you could practically smell the fresh layer of polish he bathed onto or didn’t respond. He knew how to control people through influence and it made Takeo's skin crawl. It made him question whether his thoughts were really his own.

For once, he chose not to dwell on it.

Instead, he chose to be thankful for the blessed silence of the full moon's night, for the ceaseless and one-sided bickering of all other nights irritated him to no end. But the silence held an anxious grasp in the back of his mind. None of them could shake the feeling of worry, the tension that came with these nights despite the gratitude they felt in the Doctor's absence.

Where did he go these nights?

And to what did those miss-matched eyes that watched them in the night belong to?

None of them ever held any real discussion about the eyes, but they were there all the same. Two bright, piercing eyes that watched them hawkishly, never blinking, never wavering. The first time they noticed the eyes was the eighth time, supposedly, that the Doctor disappeared into the night. Nikolai had taken watch with a great fuss of grumbling and, as he looked into the empty corridors of The Giant facility, found that something looked back. He startled heavily, as he had not seen or heard any shambling corpses in the empty halls, and he lifted his weapon to meet the eyes, but it moved away. He moved hesitantly to investigate, expecting to see some grotesque mutation of a failed experiment on the German facility’s part, but found that whatever once resided there no longer did. 

Gone.

He was too tense to sleep the next few nights. He brought up the incident with Richtofen (aggressively), who brushed him off with a subtle stab at their similar proclivities in diminishing mental states. Nikolai fell for the bait and forgot about the incident. Takeo kept in mind how the German relaxed with a quiet sigh behind the Sargents turned back.

They had all dismissed it as a one-time thing, a little trick of the light maybe, but they couldn't convince themselves that it wasn't something to worry about. Seeking answers, Nikolai would take watch the following nights in hopes he would find the eyes again, to prove he wasn't insane and imagining things, and after two weeks of finding nothing, he stopped thinking about it.

But then the full moon came again, and Takeo decided to take watch that night.

He too saw the eyes. He was not as frightened, but he did grow tense, hand on his blade and eyes watching for any kind of threat the pinpricks provided. But none came. It simply stayed and starred in the black cover of night, behind a wall that shielded it from the moon's revealing light. Takeo, curious as to what this was, slowly stood and attempted to approach the eyes, but as soon as his foot hit the ground it turned and left. He watched, fascinated, at the spot where it once sat until the sun rose. 

They met the Doctor at the main teleporter, looking drained and tired from his unknown exposition, but mentioned nothing of his absence. He brushed off most questions and shot back a few of his own in response as he finished a few plugs and switches inside the teleporter mainframe before dragging out the machine occupying it and bringing the others in.

They had completed what needed to be done here, but there were questions that the three men had for the German; developed over two years of absence that needed to be answered.

And there were many more questions, they would find, that needed to be asked first.


	2. Chapter One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM IMPATIENT
> 
> read my stupid worf stoy :))

In the following months, the eyes became a familiar presence. Every time the doctor would leave, the eyes would be there to watch them. Whatever it was, it never interfered, never made noise, and never stuck around to see the sun. Any attempts to approach the thing proved pointless because it would simply leave with a few crunches of feet in the snow, reappearing a minute or two later in a different spot. At first, it was concerning- Why was this creature following them? What was this creature in the first place?

And why was it only ever around in the nights when the Doctor wasn’t?

Nikolai was the first to pin the blame on Richtofen, accusing him of plotting something against the three of them. He yelled at him, saying that he was meddling in things he’d be better off leaving alone, and it was putting them all in danger. 

“On the contrary,” Edward replied, his voice as infuriatingly calm and smug as always, “What I am doing is the only thing keeping you alive.”

This, of course, only made the Russian more upset, but he couldn’t really argue with the man. He had no solid bases for his arguments, but that didn’t stop him from voicing his displeasure for the man whenever he could. Dempsey was also someone who held great prejudice against the German, and thus was the second to join in on accusations. He had a less brash route, believe it or not, as he would wait to be alone with the Doctor before asking any questions. They would be brief, straight to the point of the matter, and edged with a tone of frustration- understandably so, with how quickly the bastard would give him a wicked grin and wave him off. But some nights, when the world was dark enough to hide Edward’s tired, tired eyes and fallen grin, he would tell him things. Things that kept him up at night and at the same time left him wanting more, longing to understand what they meant.

“They aren’t stars, Dempsey.” He had told him once when the Marine watched him stare into the sky perplexed as if trying his very hardest to decode some impossible riddle. Looking up into the sky, he was met with the moon at half-light, surrounded by familiar specs of light as it had always been, ever since Dempsey could remember.

“What?”

“They aren’t stars.”

“I don’t understand.”

It was then that the Doctor turned his head to look at him, gripping the book tightly in his large hands, making it creak under the added pressure.

“Neither do I.”

Dempsey watched him leave, baffled. But, as he looked up again at what he thought were stars, he grew weary at how the lights looked less like they twinkled and shone through the blackness of the empty sky, and more like they were eyes blinking at him. He tried not to think about it too much.

Takeo, however, was far different in his approach with the man- though he did have his moments of frustration. He and the Doctor were on… less aggressive terms with one another, which meant their conversations were a bit more lengthy, and much less condescending on Edward's part. He would seldom give him anything tangible to work into a story, but through careful prodding, he could get him to expose parts of himself without even realizing it. Chinks in his layered armor he made using the German’s own silver tongue against him, though if he was being honest, the slowly dwindling mental state he had presented both before and after his long absence did a great deal of work for him- even if it did make other things harder, such as getting to the man to eat anything he hadn’t made himself. 

He would often contemplate the differences in Edward Richtofen from when he had met him to now, how the bags under his eyes had grown much darker in those two years, and how he seemed rougher in a way, scruff forming on the cusp of his jaw, and his clothes seemed a bit tousled, despise his malicious fidgeting with them. Something about him didn’t seem right, like a ‘find the difference’ picture without context, but the Captain just couldn’t put his finger on it. His cloth-wrapped hand would run over the flat of his blade, careful to not press his palm into the edge and spend hours trying to figure out what was happening that the Doctor that required his attention every full moon, that he wouldn’t ask for assistance with, and how it tied into the appearance of those eyes, one a bright, icy blue and the other a piercing green of evergreens under the sun’s scrutinizing glare.

Just like Edwards.

Takeo couldn’t decide whether or not he should rely on his rational thought to come to a conclusion, because the German being a mythic folklore creature was just absurd, but it fit. The only problem was, that as far as he knew, werewolves didn’t exist. It just didn’t make sense for the turning of the moon to be the cause of men to become monsters, unruly and destructive beasts of fear and pain with only the prospect of bloodshed in their hearts and minds. Children’s tales to keep them from staying out too late, scary stories for campfires and social events to have a bit of fun, pretend monsters in a game of chase. But as much as he tried to force it out of his head as a silly thought, it lingered. It was the easiest and most obvious solution, it checked off every mark in the box of questions, it even explained things he hadn’t really thought about until now.

How he generally stuck to eating meat.

How he constantly had to shave.

How he was much stronger than he should be.

He glanced wearily at those eyes, glowing in the dark and peeking down at the other two men who had set a fire in the courtyard and were eating quietly. The question was a whisper in his throat posing as a scream refusing to come out, a tension in his chest that was so overwhelming he would have believed it if he was told it had become stone under the creature's gaze. He opened his mouth to ask but nothing came out, not even the slightest wisp of breath from his lungs to plume through the cold air and so he closed it. Takeo turned away, unable to continue treating his blade. He sheathed it with a soft noise of metal on wood and sat with his hands folded in his lap, thinking. He needed to reassure himself that this insane thought in the back of his head was just that, a silly thought his mind had entertained for too long. It was clawing at his mind, the need to know the need to prove himself right and be completely sure the Doctor wasn’t some monster of the night.

So he lifted his pistol and shot it.

The bottom right section of the creature's hulking black mass jerked back and it let out an unnatural bellow that made his ears ring. The eyes seemed to widen and then it reared up, towering up larger than any living creature he had ever seen. Its heavily furred body was narrow and gangly relative to body size, but still broad enough to double his own shoulder width. Its face was fronted by a huge, ugly maw of snaggle teeth and black gums, large spills of flesh hung around it as the mouth opened into a snarl, drool spilling out and falling to the ground in thick plops while blood spilled from its right arm. It poured down, streaming off of enormous talons that protruded from gnarled fingers that trembled from the pain. Its eyes were now surrounded by a mass of twisted muscle under layers of skin and fur, wide with fury. Takeo was glued to the spot, the echoing cries of the other men down in the courtyard swallowed by the beast leaning forward to scream displeasure at him and then run off, gone before he could blink.

He felt his heart beating like mad when he finally snapped out of his frozen state and realized Nikolai had gripped his shoulders hard and inquired about his well-being. He sat down and leaned his head into a palm, eyes wide. He had sat through the American’s and Russian’s interrogation but he wasn’t really listening to what they were saying. After his brain had stopped buzzing and his ears stopped ringing, he settled the others by telling them that he had done it for a reason he had hoped to see in the morning. 

“I need to know if I am right about something, but I cannot tell you what- not yet.”  
Looking up, he could see this only confused them further, and he knew they needed answers- the same answers that he himself desired. He sighed, turning away to face the moon once more.

“Soon, we will see. I promise.”

He desperately hoped he was wrong.


	3. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heres another chapter! I notice they look much longer on Google Docs than they do here, so im trying to make them a little more lengthy
> 
> I want to incorporate Wolfsbane into the story somehow, still trying to figure out how,,
> 
> but for now, enjoy some paranoid Takeo!

His breathing was ragged and pained as he made his way through the snow, gripping his forearm tightly as to stop as much of the profuse bleeding as he could. Blood spilled into the white blanket of ice that crunched beneath his feet, and his eyes focused on nothing but moving further and further, out of sight out of mind. He had to run, he wasn’t safe, they would be after him if he didn’t hide. Edward finally slumped against one of the unnaturally large trees of the surrounding black forest to examine himself, confused by what he saw. By now, the wound should have been nothing but the sore muscle and a faint, barely-there scar if not completely healed but, if anything, the hole seemed far worse than it did on impact- even in his gangly, monstrous form. The sharp bark of the thick tree pressed against his back through rugged clothes that were, thankfully, where he had left them this time, and he shifted forward until he couldn’t feel the sharp protrusions digging and scratching at his back, not noticing the marks and holes it had created. He knew his breath would need to steady and his heart begin to slow if he wanted to even think about treating the wound, so he looked up into the dark underside of white-capped trees and tried to steady himself, fulling his lungs with deep intakes of the stinging air, letting the cold leech through them into his heart, all while keeping a wary eye on where the sun would soon rise.

The Doctor grit his teeth before removing his hand, observing the wound. The skin surrounding it was raw and blistering, as though it had been set to a lit oven top, faint sizzling could be heard coming from the wound and when he looked into the hole in his arm the bullet could still be found there, burning the flesh it was in contact with. Edward felt his heart leap out of his chest when he realized what he’d been shot with, as it could have very well killed him were it directed just a bit to the left. 

Silver.

He swallowed thickly, reaching into his coat pocket to pull out a pair of long metal tweezers and slowly worked out the intruding metal. It was a painful and tiresome experience that left his eyes wet and his lip bloodied but the second it had fallen out of him and into the snow, he could feel the tissue inside beginning to weave back into flesh and bone like it should have the second he had been shot. The pain ebbed away and soon enough it was a dull throb rather than a fiery trail of liquid agony through his veins. He breathed a sigh of relief, finally able to feel his lungs open and contract in a manner that was consistent. The air was quiet for some time, the German’s breath fogging up the air in front of him like wisps of white that held unspoken thoughts and forgotten words he wanted to say but really had no reason to, after all, there was no one around.

‘Funny,’ he thought, a wave of spite and bitterness rolling over him. Typically in Richtofen’s life, there never was.

He let his eyes close and his head fall back, both icy dread pooling in his gut, and a momentary strike of anger that led him to slam his fist down into an exposed tree root, splintering and breaking through the area of impact. Takeo could have killed him that night, could have destroyed everything he had worked for in these long, torturous, and repeating years. He glanced over at the distant wall of the castle and felt a pang of hopelessness- how would he explain this to them? He would either have to show up late and be even more suspicious or show up as soon as he could and have to come up with a story that triumphed over Takeo's correlating actions in the past few hours. They would find out, they would know. 

Fear cemented the German to the spot. For once in a very, very long time, Richtofen hadn’t the slightest clue what to do. He couldn’t weasel or snake oil his way out of this one, nor could he use his damned silver tongue that had both made his life a living hell and a slip and slide through what could have been. He stopped, shutting his eyes and tried to clear his mind, forcing his head to stop buzzing with anxious activity and his heart to beat like the human being he no longer was. Snowflakes melted on the hair that had regrown over his body and dripped icy water down onto his skin. The snow would become rain soon, and as the sun breached the horizon to announce its rebirth once more it would become a ruthless hale of sleet that would cut into him like knives if he didn’t find cover. The sky was becoming a deep grey and shadowed over the weighed-down trees, giving the world around him a beak and dreary look. 

It was a long trek back to the castle but he dreaded every step closer like the next would have him at the stone gates if he lost focus. He needed a plan, he needed an excuse. Something he could use that the others wouldn’t bother him about without a good excuse. By the time he arrived, he could make it look like he had been away, maybe bring back some tinder and logs so he would have an alibi. He could appease the minds of Nikolai and Dempsey, he knew this for sure, but Takeo wasn’t one to be comfortable under a veil- through choice or through necessity. He would peer through and find the answers he wanted if it killed him.

He wasn’t out of the woods yet.

\---------

There was an anxious air when he returned, foot landing with a resounding click! And echoing quietly through the open gates. The others were still a ways to go, as they had taken refuge in the center of the castle grounds, where the energy thrummed through strongest and kept them warm- the same could not be said for the showers.  
His breath stung, chest tight as he dragged the wood and timber he had gathered on his way, dull scraping droned along with him through the snowed-over castle. It would have been the first time in about three years he had felt rain, as opposed to snow or some otherworldly substance that fell from the sky, and he dreaded the thought of it. He would have to take shelter from the storm inside with the others, which meant he couldn’t have any excuse for this night’s transformation under the full moon’s hanging once more. It wouldn’t be all that difficult- the moon would be obscured as the storm clouds rolled in, and its power would be dulled because it was fading with the monthly cycle, but that doesn’t mean it was pleasant. He knew his body would be overwhelmed with an unplaceable feeling of discomfort, an unscratchable itch that he had to hide seamlessly from the others while waiting for them to fall asleep, finally, in which time he would normally occupy himself with tidying up, cleaning wounds or other mundane things to pass the time and numb his brain. 

He stopped when he reached the heart room turned comms center where a great Dragon’s head once hung- carved of stone at first but bursting to life, as it had in death when fed the shambling corpses killed below its maw. The warm colors and Fireplace gave an impression that the room would be as warm as it was vast as it was once a place of comfort and feast for kings but the Doctor could feel cold clawing through his pores like an infection of the skin, gripping his bones and rattling them like a candy tin with one last frustrating little gem refusing to fall out of the small slot atop. Heterochromatic eyes observed the courtyard in its confined glory; A broken mechanism of sorts in the center was to the right were stairs and to the left was a human catapult backed by a storage compartment. Whether it was designed for people or not remained unimportant to the others, Edward was sure they would take offense to being called ‘dense cargo’, and at the far end, two paths that led to different places, one to the clock tower and computer terminals and the other down to where they had all arrived in gondolas. 

It was the clock tower he was interested in, as not only had the three men who were previously stationed there no longer stationed themselves there but it was also where he left his emergency medical supplies so that he wouldn’t misplace them during the frantic bustling of undead slaughter. It had been a few days since the last wave, and he was growing anxious over the fact that this typically meant something big was about to happen. He worried they would be caught unprepared for whatever was in store for them if they didn’t figure out the bow situation. Pushing this out of his mind, he focused on working his way up wet stairs into the tower, digging behind the terminals beneath that forsaken spiral staircase he often found himself stumbling over, a strained grimace on his face as he stretched out his still-healing arm to pull up a grey camouflage pack that he hooked to his hip. Satisfied, he stifled a yawn and turned around, only to flinch so hard he swore. 

“Where were you?” A rather tired-looking Takeo asked, an edge to his voice that told Edward the Captain was not in the best of moods to be fooled about with.

“Good morning to yourself as well.” He huffed, sarcastically.

Takeo’s eyes narrowed, a hard stare into the Doctor’s own that made cold sweat run down his neck. The man could be scary when he wanted to be. Edward took slow steps towards the man, sliding past him with a silent invitation to follow. Carefully treading down the stairs and dragging the make-shift sled of wood with him he spoke in a mild tone, letting himself sound a bit tired.

“I was gathering wood, as I had noticed we were low.” He said, slowly working the load down a flight of stairs towards the underground laboratory. “A storm is coming soon, it will probably reach us by midday and so we will need fire to combat not only the cold but to dry out clothing should we not wish to succumb to sickness.”

The other man hummed, listening to the German mutter about how many steps there were for a bit before his bloodied sleeve caught his eye. He tensed, thinking of the night before, how the bullet he had fired lodged itself in the beast’s arm, the same arm, he noted uneasily, that the Doctor’s blood was on. He put a hand on the other’s shoulder, stopping him.

“What happened to your arm?” He asked, trying not to sound as anxious as he felt. 

Edward froze, looking away for a brief moment before speaking smoothly.

“Nothing, this is from the Untoten, I haven’t taken the time to clean it off is all.”

“No, it isn’t. Too dark.”

Richtofen furrowed his brow, “I beg your pardon?”

“It’s too dark to have been one of the Undead. They may be unnatural but their blood still runs red. That is far too dark to be their blood.

“Then how can you be certain,” The Doctor said, faltering, “That it is blood at all?”

They both realized his mistake before he had even finished saying it, his lapse in the information that gave Takeo a clasp to hook onto and pull. 

“Because you just told me it was.”

Tension filled the air and Edward felt his heart clench and his insides writhe and twist. He was between a rock and a hard place with nothing at all to help him. He glanced around subtly, eyes getting caught on the unearthly creatures carved into stone just a few meters behind Takeo. For once those wretched creatures had helped him out of trouble as opposed to getting him mixed in with a hailstorm of confusion and danger, and as he pondered his words he gave the impression of being pointedly annoyed at the man’s interrogation. 

“You are aware that there are some beings I am not to let you see? Time, space, all that?”

The other man hummed, raising an eyebrow as if to say, “continue”

Edward clicked his teeth and pointed over to the stone engravings of monstrous skull-creatures. “Well,” he huffed, “things like that just so happen to like me just as much as the rest of you. And so, naturally, we have a bit of a ‘squabble’. I would have hoped I wouldn’t have to explain to you that there are many things I could not and should not bring to your attention if we wish to carry on with this plan without any… ‘setbacks’.”

The last word he said with a bit of a twitch in his lower lip, glancing over to Nikolai and Dempsey as they walked into frame, carrying large barrels while laughing with each other- clearly up to something again. Straightening himself up a bit, he set the log sled rope down and moved closer to Takeo with an unsettling look in his eyes in the underground’s low light. Setting a hand on his shoulder, Edward spoke,

“Try not to think about it so much.” 

The clicks of metal-plated heels resounded through the cold stone chamber as Richtofen walked off, starting a conversation with the other men and leaving Takeo in a cloud of buzzing thought and anxiety. The Doctor’s reasoning, though frustrating and confusing, was sound. They were all aware the German had secrets to keep and that it was for their sakes that they remained secrets, no matter how persistent they were about finding out, but it was a great source of distrust they all put against Richtofen. Dread grew in Takeo's chest with every thought about the Doctor that day. His usual frantic and unorganized behavior seemed amplified today- something was pressing on his mind and it was beginning to show. He spent a lot of his time gathering materials that day, claiming it was for the storm brewing above them.

“You can never be too prepared- especially during the cold season.”

Nikolai felt very inclined to agree, even offering to assist the Doctor who enthusiastically accepted the help. Tank seemed a bit put off however when he watched the German drag thick chains across the floor into the main dining hall- they had all agreed to stay there for the night so they could sit out the storm and keep a fire with the least amount of problems. Takeo eyed him wearily, noticing with great discomfort that his response of ‘chains being a good resource to keep handy during blizzards‘ was a clearly fabricated lie; a nervous cover-up. 

Nikolai was a bit too distracted by his glee in getting to show off his expertise for the given situation to notice something afoot behind the Doctor’s flimsy excuse, but Dempsey didn’t quite trust it. He let the man go nonetheless but eyed him carefully as the day went on. 

To much of their surprise, the undead hadn’t been seen in great numbers for nearly a week. There were a few stragglers here and there, but they seemed to lack the burning hatred for whatever living thing came near them- instead, they mindlessly shuffled around, often bumping into things for a few minutes before deciding on a different direction. It was a much-needed break for all of them, time to breathe and reflect, to pick up on things they hadn’t noticed while under siege, but there was a growing sense of paranoia beginning to set in. The undead had never been unseen for more than two days- for whatever reason, that may have been- but none of them trusted it.

It was when the snow became sleet and the world grew darker that they all retreated into the main hall, cold and wet with ice-cold and razor-sharp crystals that flew by and left thin cuts over exposed skin. The fire was set and outer layers were hung, drying in the darkness outside of the fire’s reach. A silence followed as they ate and waited out the storm, wind whistling and droning ominously outside while Edward’s foot tapped rhythmically, dull thumps from the front of his foot while his heel remained in contact with the stone flooring. Just before he was going to speak, he felt a sudden spike of cold in his body, a groan barely suppressed as the full moon’s light pierced through the clouds. He grit his teeth and gripped the armrests of his seat so hard he could feel them beginning to warp below him.

‘I didn’t expect it to be so strong’ He thought worriedly, forcing his body to keep its composure. He was too focused on keeping his hands from becoming clawed, gnarled hands that he almost didn’t catch his teeth in time, covering up the slowly growing protrusion with a swipe of his tongue. With a sigh, he managed to get everything under control, growing hairs on his body barely noticeable in the firelight- not that anyone was watching him long enough to see anything.  
‘It can’t be all that long until morning, we were out for quite a long time, weren’t we?’ 

He glanced over at the still-working clock above their heads that read 8:17 with its large bronze hands.

It was going to be a very long night.


	4. Chapter Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> uh
> 
> *summary*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not posting this, I'd been doubting my writing abilities lately so i re wrote it about four times
> 
> I like this version enough to show you all, and i hope you werent too dissapointed by the long wait  
> Hope you enjoy!! fourth chapter in the works now
> 
> I really aoreciate all of your comments and kudos, it makes me so happy to see them

Time ticked so slow that The Doctor felt he could finish saving the universe and come back, only to see the clock hadn’t hit three. 

He had long since tried to hide his discomfort from the others, concern growing as the seconds ticked by oh so slowly. The storm raged on so violently they could feel the strong whips of wind striking them with icy chills no matter how strongly they let the fire blaze, often having to add more and more lumber in desperate hopes that it didn’t go out. Many a time someone, usually Dempsey, would jest at him to start some kind of argument to pass the time. Edward would have made a snide remark in return, happy to indulge in his idiocy had he not been preoccupied with forcing his body into the much smaller shape it was now, as opposed to the feral and furred beast that was desperately trying to burst out of every square inch of his body. His eyes remained closed and his foot remained bouncing, strung and tensed, pressing his body into his seat. It wasn’t until the scent of tainted blood filled his nostrils that he opened his eyes, startled to see he had splintered the polished wooden seat handles that he’d been holding his arms against. 

The Doctor glanced upward, meeting the three men’s stares of shock aimed at him, tinged with muted fear at the sight, the Doctor’s large and boney hands skewered and gored with jagged wood. He cleared his throat, unclenching his fists with a grimace and began to pick out the shards of wood lodged in them with great difficulty, trying to ignore the fact that everyone was watching him do so. The pain gave him something else to focus on- the sharp bolts and stinging agony was very distracting, having to force his hands steady as he worked on them rendered him a bit hyper fixated, but then Nikolai’s hands grabbed at his wrists to stop him, making Edward jump and snap his head up. The Russian eyed him strangely but pulled forth a stool nonetheless, beginning to pick out the bloodied shards himself. Edward was too preoccupied with keeping calm to be bothered really, but the close proximity still put him on edge.

“I’m,” he started, voice coming out in a deep, broken rumble that made them all look up at him, surprised. He cleared his throat harshly and began again, “I’m not very good with- er- storms. I must have gotten lost in thought.”

“Some thought.” Dempsey scoffed, eyeing the substantial damage to the chair handles. He scooted a bit closer before poking the demolished wood about, following the splits that led all the way to the backrest. “Sure hope you weren’t thinking about strangling any of us, a grip like that.”

Nikolai chuckled, pulling out one of the larger chunks abruptly, making Edward hiss and roll his neck uncomfortably as a shift in his body was felt. He forced it back in place before tuning into the conversation again.

“Do not expect us to help you eat afterward,” Nikolai jokes, nudging Takeo who was just across from him, now staring unfalteringly at the new injuries. “If boney little hands can do this to a wooden chair, I fear what his jaw could do to mine!”

The three men chuckled, Richtofen blushing a bit out of embarrassment. The Russian continued picking out the splinters from his hand while he struggled to keep his hands completely free of any changes, sweat beading down his forehead. He hoped that the writing and straining of his hands was mistaken simply for them being operated on without tools, blood spilling thickly onto the floor. His heart raced, his head throbbed, and he could barely respond to their jokes and questions in time for it to seem like he was really listening. It took him a while to bring himself back to a semblance of control, able to join back into the idle discussion through means of silently taking in information. He caught himself letting out a deep sigh of relief when out of the corner of his eye he could see the clouds had thickened and blocked the moon’s light completely once more, weakening the disastrous urges within him substantially. 

That pleasant and welcome feeling of relief left him, however, when Takeo muttered something before taking his now wood-free hand into his own. Nikolai made a noise of confusion before noticing whatever it was the Captain was so focused on and dropped his other hand, piquing Dempsey’s interest. 

“What is it?” The German asked, tense. “Is something wrong?”

The Marine sat up straight, watching as Takeo stood with the German’s hand in his own, pushing it toward his face as if presenting it. There was then a short silence as no one spoke, Edward’s face twisting in confusion as he looked back and forth between the Japanese man and his pale, boney mandible. 

“Wow?” he said, uncertainly, making Takeo’s look harden.

“There is nothing on your hand.” He said, irritated as if that was to clear everything up. It seemed to have worked for the American behind him, because he too went to grab at his hand and inspect it, making him very uncomfortable.

“Ah yes, my apologies officer,” He said, bowing in mock apology, “If I had known today was inspection day, I would have adorned my mandatory hand jewelry and glittered ribbons.”

Takeo pinched the bridge of his nose, clicking his teeth before grabbing a fallen splinter and stabbing it back into his palm, forcing his hand still while the man yelped, suppressing a growl. He then forced the man to watch as his punctured skin and bloodied palm healed within a matter of seconds, his heart dropping into a pit of ice. 

_‘Fuck’_

“There is not a single mark left on your hand. Not even the slightest inclination that you sustained such an injury as hundreds of wooden chips and shards cutting into you.” 

The Captain spoke lowly, tension stronger than the frozen winds piercing their skin from the outside in, heart rate sky-rocketing as the Doctor glanced around to see no exit. He breathed in long, shaky breaths, attempting to calm his brain with oxygen as he clamored desperately for some type of excuse. Dempsey let go of the other’s hand and reached into his pack, retrieving a cigarette that he lit and set between his lips, awaiting a response. There was a dim blue light that pulsed faintly past his right shoulder, a crystal wedged deep into the stone wall from some experiment gone awry, and Richtofen took his chances with the playing board.

“It’s a mutation.” He fumbled. “From the Element 115, I mean.”

“...I’m sorry?”

“I am sure you all recall where you found me- the dig site where we discovered the new element; Element 115.”

Dempsey snorted, huffing out a cloud of smoke as spoke, “Yeah, performing a _‘Lobotomy’_ on that Maxis chump, looking like a kid with his hand caught in the cookie jar.”

The Doctor glared venomously at him but made no argument, continuing bitterly as the unpleasant memories of what he had been forced to do resurfaced, a black buzzing in his head that he knew wouldn’t leave for a while. “Mm. Well, as one of the main _addresses_ for the research and development of weaponry using the element, it was only natural that I came in extended periods of contact with it several times in a single day- locked up in that damned bunker with all my tools flying everywhere whenever someone forgot to turn on the landing gear.” 

He sighed unsteadily and clenched his hand, using it to pick off the few splinters of wood remaining in his left before presenting it as the flesh bound itself back together, wiping off the blood and manipulating the skin to show the extent of his regeneration. Shaking hands twitched as he choked down his own tongue, feeling teeth beginning to form deeper in his mouth. Swallowing deeply, he continued;

“Many succumbed to all types of infection and mutation- the most prominent being our untoten friends, skin rotted and brain fried, but still alive in a manner of speaking. The others would range from an extra appendage- usually sawed off before it grew into something dangerous, or small beneficial things, such as enhanced strength, lack of a recovery period, or extreme regeneration.”

_“Recovery period?”_ Dempsey said, brows high.

“So you’re saying you were irradiated by glowing rocks, so now you are immune to scar-causing injuries,” Takeo questioned, an air of disbelief around him.

“Wait,” Dempsey said, though no one was listening, “But what did he mean by recovery period?” 

“Essentially, yes. With a few exceptions- I’m not exactly invulnerable, I could still die from stab wounds.” Edward responded, bestilling his hands and focusing his wits. He couldn’t afford to slip up here.

“How would he know about someone not having a recovery period? I mean there’s not anything wrong with that I just didn’t think ‘experimenting’ included the be-”

Nikolai swatted the back of his head harshly, making his cigarette fall into the flame. 

They seemed to have a silent discussion before Tank dropped the subject, instead lighting another sick with a pout.  
“So- let me just,” Tank said, rubbing his temples, “You have these ‘super healing powers’ that came from your ‘super-secret radioactive rock’ and you never said anything?”

“Why would I? It hardly seems all that important.”

“Well, what if we get infected from the element? It’s _all over_ the fuckin’ place Doc’!”

Edward swore internally, fighting against the angered glares directed at him with an indigent huff of his own. 

“You really think I would be so careless if I was not confident in my own abilities as a doctor?” He said, only slightly feigning offense, “I opted to keep my afflictions for the sake of research and mortal advantage- anything lesser could be easily spotted and dealt with, assuming you haven't already built an immunity with all of the ‘Perk-a-holic’ drinks.”

Nikolai’s brow furrowed, “What is wrong with special drinks?”

“They are infused with the element as well. What did you think it was- methamphetamine?”

The Russian began to speak, but seemed to have nothing more to argue and so closed his mouth with a musing shrug of his shoulders and tilt of his head.   
“Fair enough.”

“And of your scars?” Takeo objected, now sitting in a chair himself, “You may choose to hide from us, but we can all see the injuries you have sustained. Why have they not healed over as well?”

“Because I either obtained them before the mutation, or they were too substantial for even my expertise- as well as the benefit of constant regeneration- to heal completely without a mark.” Richtofen eyed the clouds as a pale light began to present itself once more. He tensed, ignoring the feeling as it washed over him, returning with a vengeance. Absent-mindedly, he noted that Takeo threw another chunk of wood into the fire, making it hiss and crackle as he stroked it with a long metal rod taken from the crumbling infrastructure. Time began to pass once more as the ordeal seemed to be over-interest lost and bodies tired.

Takeo had only huffed at him after his cover-up, said no more to him during the moon-lit hour of the storm, winds finally slowing until there was but a heavy snowfall about, over a foot of snow already covering the outside world. Dempsey decided to take his rest before he was put on watch, huddled up in a grey cover of sorts facing away from the flame, face shadowed and breaths deep, slow draws of oxygen that blew a bit of dust from the floor beneath it. Nikolai nibbled on a bit of salted mystery meat he found in the food stores before wrapping it in cloth and leaning back into his chair, falling asleep with a deep sigh about a quarter after the Marine.

_‘Two down’_ Edward through to himself, suppressing the immense pressure in his chest, expanding by the second and making him feel as though he were a balloon being pumped far too full of thick sludged dirt, just on the cusp of breaking through that last layer of rubber, peeling the layers slowly, so slowly…

He caught himself before he could fall too deep into the thought, forcing claws back into nails.

The large clock now read 1:46 and Takeo was still awake. He didn’t look tired at all, rather, he looked prepared to take on the whole night without a wink of sleep, eyes sharp and focused on one of the many journals found around the facility- probably trying to piece together german words into some form of instruction, some way to understand what he was meant to do.   
_‘Or maybe he wanted to find an even better way to drive me insane with his constant interrogations and paranoia’,_ Edward thought bitterly. 

He sighed, rolling his shoulders back with a series of quiet pops and cracks that caught the Captain’s attention, making him grimace sympathetically.

“Your body is worn, Edward.”

“How nice of you to say.”

Takeo rolled his eyes, “I mean you have been wearing yourself out. When was the last time you slept?”

“I hardly see why this is important Takeo,” Richtofen sighed heavily, pinching his brow out of frustration. His head throbbed violently and he could feel teeth become daggers under his lapse of attention, the strength of the moon’s influence growing far too strong for the Doctor to be dealing with under this scrutiny.

“It is important,” Takeo groused, “because your lack of physical and mental stability only furthers the distrust of your followers.”

“If you think I haven’t done more…” He paused, a high ringing rising through his ears, “ under worse conditions,, then you underestimate the struggles of the scientific community during the war efforts.”

“And what happens when your arrogance gets the best of you? When you push yourself further and further, thinking you can handle it, only for your resolve to shatter at the moment you need it most?”

Richtofen cricked his neck, mountains digging into the back of his eyes and bullets dancing around in his skull. His patience was dwindling faster than he cared to admit and it was affecting his ability to concentrate on himself, just barely keeping himself in check. 

“What are you doing, Takeo?” He snapped, fed up. “ What is it you want from me?”

“I want the truth. You are hiding something, something that shouldn’t be true but can no longer be denied fact.”

“Curiosity killed the cat, Takeo.”

“Satisfaction will always bring him back.”

Edward groaned loudly, shaking his head.

“You think I haven’t been in your exact same position hundreds of times before? An insatiable desire to confirm something you already know to be true? All you are going to accomplish is getting yourself and others hurt, or even killed.” 

His face contorted into that of desperation, spilling the words he wished over countless nights of tragedy that someone had told him in his journey through the different worlds, different realities that he knew not a soul would ever speak of again.

“Don’t you see? You have already won. Your suspicions are correct. Is this what you wanted to hear? What else are you willing to sacrifice just to see it unfold before you? And what will you do when it happens? Kill me? Watch as I tear the other's skin from their bodies in an uncontrollable rage? What is it that you _want_ to happen?”

Takeo seemed stuck, the need he had been unable to suppress showing in his eyes brighter than ever before, taking in the Doctor’s confession and felt guilt and remorse for his actions settle in his chest. He and the German seemed to have a staring match as connections that had been made long ago were finally clasped and secured- for better or for worse. 

“So it was you who I-”

“Shot with a _silver bullet?_ Yes.”

The captain winced, fiddling with his hands. He looked up sheepishly, regret heavy in his expression.

“I am sorry.”

“I know.”

“Will you be alright for tonight?”

The Doctor paused, eyeing the moon-lit floor by the hall’s entrance with an unreadable expression before turning back to Takeo who sat, defeated, in his chair. He looked far more appropriate for the lack of sleep he had been getting than when he was poised like a tiger just an hour earlier. Edward eyed the clock before he clicked his tongue, standing. He removed his vest and shirt, folded them neatly, and set them inside his pack.

“You _really_ want to see?” He asked the other, watching the startled confusion melt into an eagerness that devoured his disappointment tenfold, resurrecting him from his assumed defeat into a position of grim eagerness. Takeo nodded, gathering his pack and deciding to bring only his blade for protection, considering the Doctor’s words from before with a short pause. The two of them made their way out into the now calm snow when Richtofen held out a small box to the Captain. 

“What is this?” He asked.

He received no answer.

Edward walked out into the dark courtyard, forcing himself calm as the clouds opened and moonlight shone directly on his bared skin, cold melting away as he eyed Takeo, who gripped his blade handle anxiously. The box had been tucked away and his eyes were hard-set, strung with anticipation.

“This won’t be pretty Takeo. It may take me some time to recognize you, and we don’t know what could happen afterward. Are you sure you’re ready for this?”

There was a moment of silence before the other responded, voice firm but pulse fast, faint to Edward’s ears but still there enough for him to acknowledge. Worry filled his gut but he knew this had to happen for both of their sakes. He could see how this desperation to know was killing the other from the inside-out, an intangible knowledge that was so close he could touch it but the moral dilemma of whether the sacrifice was worth the gains was driving him further towards the edge of a mountain he would never be able to scale again. Their eyes met to a silent conversation, a mutual understanding, a quiet need.

“Satisfaction,” was all Takeo said in response.

Then the Doctor’s world went black.


End file.
